


For the Kids

by youreyestheyglow



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Jake dies in the end, M/M, Sadstuck, The major character death is canon, kind of sad, you already know that it shouldn't be too sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:38:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grandpa Harley calls Bro Strider for help</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Kids

**Author's Note:**

> Dirk and Roxy are given a special version of Pesterchum by Calliope to allow them to communicate with Jane and Jake. Knowing that, and having seen several posts indicating that the Betaverse guardians knew the game was coming, and knowing Dirk's and Roxy's aptitude for computers and robotics - making it entirely possible that they had Calliope's program even in the Betaverse - and having noted the fact that Jadebot is literally a replica of Jade despite the fact that Grandpa Harley died when Jade was young, and knowing that Jake himself is not exactly the best at robotics, I came up with this scenario, and haven't been able to stop thinking about it. So in spite of the studying I should be doing for finals, I wrote it.

"Good night, Jade," you whisper as you kiss her forehead. 

"Good night, Grampa," she says in a tiny voice that's already half-asleep. 

You pull the blankets up around her tiny body and tiptoe out, shutting the door quietly and leaning against it.

Now that you're not in her line of vision, you can let go, and you do, your legs turning to jelly as you slide to the floor. You're not unfit, but you're old already, and these late-night excursions are getting to be too much for you. You moved here for the express purpose of getting rid of your anxiety, the fear that Jade would be big enough to unlock the door and wander outside, where she could be kidnapped or run over or get lost or any manner of harm could come to her, but she's no safer here than she was there.

You're coming to this realization quickly, but much more slowly than you should have. You've always been a bit slow to pick up on certain things, but you had assumed that your paternal instincts would kick in once you got Jade.

You were wrong, of course.

You have no clue what you're supposed to do for her. You're a traveler, gosh darn it, not a child therapist! And you know what she's dreaming about, and you don't really want to stop her from dreaming about it. They're going to be important. You've known for a long time that the things you remember are - were - will be - real. You've been having those godforsaken flashbacks since you were a child, just like good ol' Janey - dead as of last year, poor girl - and Roxy, who dealt with them in her own way, and Dirk. 

And as you think his name, some strange memory comes to mind - a memory that isn't yours, but  _is_ yours, in a way that you were never quite bright enough to comprehend - of Dirk, and a split consciousness, and a pair of shades. 

You pull yourself off the floor - your friggs-flippin' joints aren't up to this anymore, you have got to stop sitting down for god's sake - and hobble to the phone, your joints popping all the way as they straighten themselves out. You were on the floor for two fucking seconds and the ol' legs can't handle that, apparently. 

You dial the number from memory. It's not a very good memory you've got, but sometimes, it works. 

"Yeah?"

"Strider?"

"Which one?"

"Dirk. Is Dave really old enough to answer the phone?"

"No, but when telemarketers call it throws 'em off. What's wrong?"

The longer sentence shows off his Texan drawl. 

You missed it.

You miss how he always manages to know when something's wrong. 

"Jake?"

"Sorry. Um. Listen, old pal, it's about Jade."

"What about her? Oh, goddamn - hold on." You hear him yelling something in the background, and when he returns two seconds later, you hear slurping. "Sorry, Dave was trying to get in the fridge - not a good place to go, lil' bro, not a good place to go," he chides Dave, whom you realize Dirk is probably holding. "What's up with Jade?"

"She - she's been dreaming. And from what I can gather, it's about Prospit."

"That's a good thing, Jake. The more she knows, the easier it'll be for them when - when they play the game." 

"I know, I know, but - she's been sleepwalking, too. And she doesn't just sleepwalk into the kitchen, or something easy like that."

"It's - isn't it late, where you are? Really late?" Dirk sounds alert, like he's realizing the problem is more urgent than he thought.

"Two in the morning, actually. I don't know what woke me up - it wasn't her - but something did, and whatever it was I'll always be grateful, because - Dirk, I was barely in time, I barely made it, I -" Your voice breaks. Dirk is silent as you compose yourself. "I found her next to the lake. She was going to fall in, Dirk. She can't swim, she doesn't know how to swim, and the lake is full of things that would eat her even if she didn't drown - Dirk, what if, next time, I don't wake up, or I don't get there in time - I'm not like you, Dirk, I can't flashstep, and I'm getting old, I'm not weak or slow but I'm not fast either, what if I can't -"

You stop. There are some thoughts that you don't want - nay, that you flatly  _refuse_ to speak out loud. The thought of not - the thought of Jade - 

"So what do you want me to do?" Dirk asks, and it's not in annoyance - he's not yelling at you for calling him. He's asking what you need. Stepping up to the plate. 

"I - it might be a bit much, I don't know, it sounds kinda far-fetched -"

"Jake. What do you need?"

You take a deep breath. "I remember - or, the other me remembers - that you built an AI? Or that the other you built an AI?"

"Are you asking me to build an AI for your three-year-old daughter? Because I don't think that would turn out well."

"No, no, but - something along those lines. Something - something that would wake up when she fell asleep, do the sleepwalking for her, so she could stay in bed. Stay safe."

Dirk is silent.

You fear you asked for too much.

"I can do that," he says slowly, and you realize that you were wrong about the tone of his silence. It wasn't regret that he couldn't do it; it was his brain working on the problem, making sense of a robot that you can hardly imagine, let alone build. You're no idiot, but this is beyond your comprehension.

You learned a long time ago to recognize the limits of your intelligence.

"Can you?" 

"Mmm... yeah, yeah, I think so. I'd need... but I could get that. And - no, that's not really a problem either - shh, Davey, Bro's got a problem to think about - yeah, I can do it. I'll mail it out to you when it's done, but I can't guarantee that I can mail it all in one piece. If I can't, I'll include directions, so you know how to put it together, all right?"

"Dirk, thank you. Thank you, so much, so much, I - thank you." You feel relief sweep your body. You can find a way to keep Jade safe for a little while, while you're still young enough and she's still small enough for you to pick up, and by the time you're too old to reach her and she's too big for you to sweep out of harm's way, she'll have a robot that will keep her safe.

"No problem. Just - don't tell her I built it, okay? We don't want her to talk to Dave too early, or to realize that we know each other. I don't think that would work out well."

"I - okay. Thank you, Dirk. Thank you."

"I'll try and get it to you as soon as I can, all right?"

"Thank you."

He laughs, a short, low bark of a laugh, that pulls at something in your heart. "Dude, do you know any other words?"

"Of course I do, chap. Lots of words. The whole friggin' English vocabulary is at my command."

"Words like 'chap' don't count."

"Oh, for friggs-flippin' sake Strider -"

"Neither does 'friggs-flippin', where did you even get that -"

"My large vocabulary, where else -"

A tiny face peeks around the doorway. "Grampa? Who are you talking to?"

"An old friend, Jade. Why are you awake?"

"Is Jade there?" Dirk asks.

"Yeah."

"All right. I don't want her making any connections - Davey'll never remember this, but she might dream about it, and we don't want that. I'll go. Bye, Jake."

"Bye, D - friend." Would Jade make a connection with Dirk's name? 

He hangs up. You put the phone back in its stand and swing Jade up into your arms. She screams with delight as the floor falls away from beneath her. "Come on, sweetie, time for bed."

"Are  _you_ going to bed?" She asks.

"Yes."

"For  _real_?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. I guess I'll go to sleep." 

You set her in bed, and feel a tiny pang of fear that she'll leave again, and that you won't wake up in time to stop her. You examine her door as you leave - lock on the inside, opens into her room - and instead of going to sleep right away, you begin reorganizing the house, disordering it, moving things around to make it impossible for Jade to use the transportalizer all the way to the bottom of the house, making it nearly as impossible to navigate the house while asleep without tripping over something. Maybe, if she sleepwalks, at least she'll trip over something and wake up, or wake  _you_ up so you can grab her before she leaves the house.

Of course, there's always the minor problem that  _you_ will trip over these things, too.

You'll have to move them back once Strider sends the robot over.

* * *

A month later, three packages arrive: a torso, a head, and four limbs. You pull them out and examine them, and a sheet of paper falls out of the head.

_Jake,_

_I couldn't find a box big enough to fit the whole thing, and it might have gotten damaged on the way anyway, if I kept it all together. There are instructions on the other side._

_I hope you and Jade are okay, and I hope this works. Can't have two of my favorite people getting hurt, can I?_

_\- D.S._

_  
_You smile a little. Dirk has the strangest handwriting - a cross between that of an engineer and that of someone who learned to handwrite Comic Sans and has been trying and failing to unlearn that particular skill.

The instructions, however, are clear and neat, and you sit on the beach, attaching the body parts one by one to the torso.

"What's that?" Jade asks as you attach the head.

"It's a - Dreambot. When you go to sleep, this will wake up, and it will do all the wandering for you, so you can stay nice and warm in your bed." You stand back and admire the finished product.

It looks precisely like her, but all grown-up, and you can't help but wonder if she'll really look like that when she's older, and to be perfectly honest with yourself - which is something you always try to be - you can't help but feel that she will, because Strider never does things halfway. You can't imagine how he knew what she'd look like, but that's probably some Strider secret.

"Did you build it?"

No. No, you could never have built this. But the genius who did said to tell her you did. "Yes. Of course I did."

"It looks very robotic," Jade says. "How does it work?"

You pick her up - you won't be able to do that for much longer, according to your back's protests - and begin explaining it to her as best you can. 

And there's another one of those flashbacks fighting for your attention, and it's winning.

You trail off as a strange picture forms in your mind, of a young Dirk Strider, but robotic, appearing in the other you's bedroom, piece by piece, of putting it together and realizing that that was what your friend looked like. Your wonder at the robot's likeness then matches your wonder at the likeness of the robot standing in front of you now. 

You have stood in front of a Strider robot before, and you can't remember why. 

"Grampa?" Jade says anxiously.

You realize you've stopped talking. "I'm fine, darling. Wait - where are your pistols?"

"I left them inside!"

"Why would you do that?"

"I knew I was coming out here with you!"

Her answer makes sense, and really, you don't care if she goes out without her guns, but she started carrying them because you did, and right now it's the fastest way you can take her mind off of your lapse in attention.

She runs inside to find them.

It's a beautiful day out, and there's a robot standing in front of you that's going to keep your daughter safe. You'll have to call Strider and thank him, but time zones are still a problem, and he's probably asleep; you'll have to remember to call him later.

But for now, you think you'll have a meal with some of your blue beauties.

* * *

Ten minutes later, as you're raising your glass to an inanimate blue doll, a sharp blast sounds and a flower of pain blossoms in your chest.

The logical part of your brain says that you've been shot.

Unfortunately, the logical part of your brain is also saying that there's no one around to shoot you. 

The illogical part of your brain thinks of Jade, and how she'll grow up with no one to help her or watch her and you'll never get to clean up the house and she'll spend all her life tripping over your things, and of Strider and how you'll never get to thank him, and of how you need to thank him three times as much now, because at least Jade won't sleepwalk anymore. 

Jade and Dirk, their names and their faces and their voices, are more real than the blood spreading across your chest or the pain, which is dulling now, anyway. 

Jade and Dirk. Jade and Dirk. Jade. Dirk. 

Jade.

Dirk.


End file.
